


Oh, The Summer Nights

by EllanaSan



Series: Hayffie Summer Week 2019 [2]
Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Hayffie Summer Week, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Post-Mockingjay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2019-08-07
Packaged: 2020-08-11 05:48:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20148661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllanaSan/pseuds/EllanaSan
Summary: Effie was smiling but barely listening, he could tell. She was distracted, probably bothered by the heat because he couldn’t think of any other reason she would run an ice cube against her neck and her nape in public. So undignified… Andarousing.Haymitch had been watching because the sight was riveting.





	Oh, The Summer Nights

**Author's Note:**

> Day 3 : Summer Nights! Are you surprised it turned out into smut with plot? I’m not really XD Enjoy!

For a while in Thirteen, when Twelve had been nothing more than a pile of ash and Haymitch had felt the need to think about the future to keep himself sane, he had imagined himself moving to Four with the rest of his team to start over.

Now he was happy he was only in Four for a visit.

It was absolutely too _fucking_ hot in that District.

They were finishing dinner on Annie’s deck but even though the night had long fallen and the house gave out on the beach, the temperature was still too high to be comfortable. The girls were all wearing flimsy summer dresses and he and Peeta had long given up on propriety to shed their shirts. Only Effie had clucked her tongue in disapproval at having bare-chested men at the dinner table.

Other than the heat, he had to admit the vacation was nice – and, yeah, he had made Effie insist and beg far too long for him to come with them but he didn’t regret coming with now. Conversation was easy, laughter dominated and the food was good.

Most of their plates were empty now but Johanna was in the middle of a story about how she had broken the wrist – and the camera – of a journalist the other day and the kids were laughing so hard they were in tears. Personally, he was on Jo’s side with that but he wished she wouldn’t give Katniss ideas.

Effie was smiling but barely listening, he could tell. She was distracted, probably bothered by the heat because he couldn’t think of any other reason she would run an ice cube against her neck and her nape in public. So undignified… And _arousing_.

Haymitch had been watching because the sight was riveting. She was running the already melting cube of ice against the side of her neck, moving it to her nape and letting it melt there… She had been repeating the action regularly throughout dinner.

But arousing him wasn’t the point.

There was no coquettish smiles, no coy side-looks, no playing footsie under the table…

She was just hot.

Both senses of the terms.

At some point, he watched a drop of melted ice run down the side of her neck and he couldn’t take it anymore. The others were distracted by Johanna’s story, nobody was paying attention, his arm was already stretched on the back of Effie’s chair anyway… He quickly leaned in and pressed a kiss where her neck was wet, his tongue darting to catch the drop of water. He made it quick and he would have stopped there but she tasted so good that he couldn’t resist a second kiss, a little lower on her neck. Effie tilted her head with a small sigh.

“Can you _not_?” Katniss’ aggravated voice demanded.

He drew back only far enough for the girl to see him roll his eyes.

“_Shit_, Princess…” he deadpanned, sarcasm dripping from every word. “I believe we’re embarrassing the girl…” 

He pressed three kisses in a quick succession up the side of Effie’s neck to her ear. He might have sucked on her earlobe just to irritate the girl who had turned crimson if his former escort hadn’t playfully pushed him off with a smile that wanted to be disapproving but ended up looking far too amused.

“You’re _disgusting_ me.” Johanna spat.

“Oh come on…” Peeta laughed. “I think they’re cute.”

“Cute?” Katniss scoffed, shaking her head. “They’re _not_ cute. They’re not cute when they’re doing it in the middle of the kitchen when I come back from a hunt and they’re not cute right now.”

“You’re never gonna let that go, are you?” Haymitch winced.

“Perhaps if you stopped barging in when we don’t expect you, dear…” Effie hummed pointedly. 

Haymitch was a bit torn on the subject. He didn’t mind the kids coming and going freely from and to his house but he did like having sex with Effie anywhere he wanted in his own _fucking_ house and if they decided to have a _special _kind of breakfast, well… Neither of them had thought the girl would choose _that _moment to stop by after her morning hunt because it was too early for her usual visit and really… They hadn’t really been _thinking _at all.

Faced with Katniss’ dark look, Effie waved her hand. “We invented knocking for a reason, that is all I am saying. _And_ do not make me remind you of what _I_ saw in the bakery’s kitchen.”

“What did you see at the bakery?” Haymitch frowned, staring at her.

“Nothing you will care to know.” Effie grinned. “Nothing _I _care to remember.”

The kids were suddenly red in the face and squirming on their chairs.

Haymitch decided she was right and he didn’t want to know.

“Who wants dessert?” Annie asked and everyone hastily nodded.

The rest of the evening passed quickly even if they lingered afterwards.

Effie’s hand was on his knee, under the table, and he was happy. Odd how he had forgotten what it felt to be happy. These days, it was such a constant feeling he was starting to take it for granted.

They had chosen to take rooms at a hotel rather than crowd Annie and Jo’s already full house. It wasn’t a long walk from Four’s Victors Village, they only had to stroll along the beach which, at night with the full moon over their heads and the ocean licking at their bare feet, wasn’t such a hardship. Effie was leaning on his arm, like in the old days, because walking arm in arm was a reflex by then, their sides flushed together.

“It is so _damn_ hot I almost miss your freezer of a District…” Effie complained in his ear, her lips pursed.

It _was _pretty _damn_ hot and she was the one who soaked up the sun and the heat usually.

“You know it turns me on when you’re being vulgar…” he warned.

“Well… If you are exceptionally nice to me, I might let you play with ice cubes.” she chuckled, low enough that her voice wouldn’t carry to the kids. “You did seem to like it.”

Peeta and Katniss were walking ahead of them, hands entwined and whispering sweet nothings to each other. It was good to see them like that after everything.

Haymitch knew Peeta was planning to propose before the end of the trip. It was just a matter of finding the right time.

They were within sight of the hotel when the boy glanced at them over his shoulder. “We’re going to walk around some more… See you in the morning?”

“Sure.” Haymitch smirked. It seemed like the boy had finally found the right moment. “Good luck.”

“Good luck with a walk on the beach?” Katniss scoffed. “It ain’t the old days, Haymitch.”

Peeta winked at him and led the girl away by the hand… The sound of her laughter in the distance carried them off toward the hotel.

“Do you think they will have an announcement for us at breakfast?” Effie asked, leaning against his side more fully now that the kids weren’t around.

Haymitch wrapped his arm around her shoulders in return. The kids – well, _Katniss_ – kept complaining they were too demonstrative but he didn’t know what they were talking about. They might be pecking each other’s mouth hello and goodbye but they hardly made it a show. Otherwise, they _weren’t_ that tactile…

“Probably.” He shrugged, taking advantage of the deserted beach to nuzzle that spot behind her ear. “About time too.”

“Says the man who still refuses to talk about marriage after thirteen years…” she mocked, pocking him in the side with a very sharp fake nail.

“Technically, it’s been three.” he muttered uneasily.

She hummed. “So we are not counting the ten years of our on and off affair?”

He frowned, not quite sure how the mood had turned from playful to awkward. “You _wanna_ get married?”

He would have sworn he would never do that high and low only a couple of years earlier but… The peace was holding. Life was good. And Effie… He couldn’t imagine his life without Effie in it, kissing him in the morning and lying down next to him at night.

“No, darling…” She smiled. “I knew what I was getting into on that front when I moved in with you. I don’t expect more, I am just teasing you.”

“Oh…” He relaxed.

They walked through the big revolving doors of the hotel – he would have chosen something a little less grand but it was Effie who had made all the arrangements and Effie Trinket traveled in style. He let her check in at the lobby for messages or phone calls and then wrapped his arm around her shoulders again when she joined him in front of the elevator. He distractedly toyed with the strap of her pink dress while they waited for the elevator guy in a fancy green and gold uniform to appear.

Finally, the doors opened on the guy and they stepped in. Effie exchanged the requisite _good evening, how are you _and what not and Haymitch shifted his weight from one foot to the other, wishing it wasn’t such a posh hotel that there was an elevator guy at all. He wanted to talk to her and he didn’t want to do it with an audience.

“But that’s something you’d want though?” he insisted once they were in the corridor, safe from prying ears.

Effie frowned at him and held out her hand for the magnetic key. He pulled it out of his pocket and handed it over – he never managed to open those doors, what had happened to good old fashioned metal keys?

“Getting married?” she clarified as they made their way to their door. “I would have wanted to once upon a time, yes. Now… It does not seem that important all things considered.” She hesitated for a second when they reached their door before scanning the card, her tone too casual not to be forced. “Sometimes… I would not mind taking your name.”

The thought of her carrying his name sent a jolt of panic down his spine. Anyone with his name… Anyone with his name would…

_Nothing would happen to anyone wearing his name_, he reminded himself firmly before he could lose his cool and make a beeline for the mini-bar_, that’s over_.

He knew that. He _knew _it. But the fear was there all the same, the terrifying certainty that anyone he loved would end up dead. That he was a black plague that killed off his loved ones, that…

A part of him understood why she wanted his name though.

Being _Effie Trinket_ in this post rebellion world was tricky.

“I…” He licked his lips, slowly shut the door behind him. The hotel room was a suite that reminded him of the rooms he had been given in the Mansion after the war. There was a living-room with a couch and everything, a huge bedroom with a round bed for some reason, and a bathroom that had made Effie clap her hands in joy – mostly because of the hot tub they had already used a few times. He trailed after her through the living-room and to their bedroom. “I need to think about it.”

She frowned at him even as she grabbed the phone on the bedside table. “It is truly not that big a deal, Haymitch. I _understand_.”

And she did.

He cupped her cheek, ran his thumb along her cheekbone…

_I love you_.

He wanted to say the words. _So much_. But they were stuck in his throat like always and he wished… He _wished_…

Her face softened and she leaned into his hand. “I know.”

The tension left his shoulders.

“I’m gonna think about it.” he said again and when she tried to protest, he moved his hand from her cheek to her lips to silence her. He took a deep breath, told his treacherous heart to stop being an idiot. “It ain’t… It ain’t as frightening as before… Just… I need to wrap my head around it. So… not now or soon but… _Maybe_.”

It killed him that it was all he had to give this woman who he had treated so poorly at times and yet who had stood with him through thick and thin. He wanted to give her _everything_ because she _deserved_ everything.

It killed him not to be capable of giving more than the little he could.

She stepped into his space, brushed her lips against his in a playful almost kiss… “Do not look so glum, darling… Hot summer nights are not made to be glum…”

He caught her mouth as she retreated, pulled her into a real kiss… His hand searched the side of her pink dress for the zipper he knew was there…

She planted a long peck on his mouth and quickly stepped back to type on a key on the phone before lifting it to her ear. “Hello, could we get a bucket of ice room 212 please? Thank you!”

He lifted his eyebrows and she flashed him a wicked _wicked _grin_. _And then she unzipped her dress and slowly pushed a strap over a shoulder and then the other, swaying a little… She kept the dress in place with her forearm though but teased him by taking off her bra underneath the fabric…

Haymitch sat down on the edge of the mattress, smirking. He never minded a striptease. She excelled at them.

Eventually, once Haymitch was very hot and bothered, she let the dress flop down on the floor and started playing with the see-through lacy white tong. She nudged it down and back up, moving in time to the imaginary beat of some slow music…

Haymitch was resisting the urge to just grab her and toss her on the bed to have his way with her when room service knocked on the door. His pants were still on although he had discarded the shirt again but if the man in green and gold was disturbed by the sight he didn’t let on. Haymitch grabbed the bucket and slammed the door in the guy’s face anyway.

When he stepped back in the bedroom, she was sprawled on the round bed with her arms stretched above her head and her legs slightly parted.

“I thought you might want to take them off yourself…” she hummed knowingly, rising her hip off the bed.

He was kneeling between her knees and slipping her thong off before he could even process the sight. And then he was pressing his mouth on her and she let out a small surprised cry that soon turned into a moan.

“Don’t let the ice melt…” she muttered after a minute.

He reluctantly stopped what he was doing to prop his chin on her knee. “What do you want?”

“Play.” she requested. “You were dying to earlier.”

“Didn’t think you noticed.” he snorted.

“I _always_ notice.” she retorted. “I simply was not doing it on purpose right then.”

But she was certainly doing it on purpose now as she reached in the champagne bucket full of ice. She grabbed a handful of ice cubes and placed them on her chest, arching her back and shivering at the sudden cold… She nudged some onto her breasts…

Haymitch batted her hand away eagerly and lapped the ice and the melted water directly from her skin. When there was no more, he slowly kissed his way up her throat, nipped at the soft spot behind her ear he had been kissing earlier…

Her breathing was hard…

He drew back and fished a single ice cube from the bucket. She licked her lips as she tracked his movement, hissed under her breath when he started circling her nipple with the cube… He rubbed it on the tight nub and then, once it was melted, he sucked her nipple in his mouth.

He repeated the process with her other breast, alternated between the two a few times until her nipples were reddish with cold and so prettily erected…

He moved on to her stomach.

He placed an ice cube on her navel and dropped kisses everywhere but there until it melted and water dripped down her ribs, then he lapped at it with his tongue until she was writhing on the bed.

The next ice cube went on her pubic bone…

She was breathing hard, moaning every time he soothed the bite of the ice with his tongue… Her arms were still stretched above her head, her hands frantically searching for something to hold on to… She ended up bunching a pillow in her fists.

She was wet and ready for him.

He went back to toying with her breasts without touching her between the legs.

She let out a cry of frustration that was almost his undoing. He kicked off his pants while he was sucking on her breasts, kicked off his boxers while he was at it too… It was difficult to resist the urge to grab himself. He was hard and more than ready.

He tortured her with the ice until she let out an equal amount of whimpers and moans. And then, without warning, he pressed an ice cube against her clit.

Her hips buckled.

With his free hand, he circled her entrance, teasing her…

“Haymitch…” she hissed. “Haymitch, I swear if you don’t…”

He pushed two fingers in and added another ice cube. Her hips jolted up and he took his fingers out of her to press down on her stomach so she would remain flat on the bed.

“Didn’t say you could come yet, sweetheart…” He smirked. “Be a good girl for me.”

She shot him a glare. “We are not playing that game right now.”

His smirk deepened. He sucked his two fingers into his mouth long and hard, never averting his eyes from hers all the while.

After a good minute, she dropped her head back on the bed with a sigh of surrender. “Fine.”

“Close your eyes.” he demanded.

She obeyed at once and he rewarded her with a quick lick down there. “Good girl.”

He worked her up a little, taking his time. He could tell just at the sounds she was making that she was close and that it wouldn’t take much more for her to go over the edge. She was also trying to make an effort to hold on. The ice rattled in the bucket when he grabbed a fistful of it and her body tense eagerly…

He let the melting ice drip on her chest, on her throat and then pressed what was left of it on her lips… She licked his palm readily, sucked his fingers in her mouth…

She opened her eyes with his fingers still in his mouth and he was lost. He could read the raw need in her blue gaze. He grabbed another fistful of ice and dropped a kiss on the hollow of her throat.

“Come.” he ordered, pressing the ice between her legs, his thumb against her clit.

Her hips buckled up again a few times. Her cry was muffled by his fingers but soon her body relaxed and he snorted as her usual dazzled post-orgasm look settled on her face. He took his fingers out of her mouth and kissed her lips while she recovered.

“Was I a good girl?” she hummed when he started kissing down her jaw.

“The best.” he promised.

“Good…” she answered, a little out of breath.

Without warning, she pushed him flat on his back and straddled him. His hands shot straight to her hips in a never forgotten reflex. It had been years and they did it that way often now – hell, after the war and everything she had been through, they had only done it that way for almost a year – but his body still reacted the same way before his brain could catch up and remind him that this wasn’t an attack, that this was _good_.

She was aware of it all, of course, and so she knew to wait a couple of seconds before she wriggled her eyebrows in a playful fashion. Her blond hair had half-fallen from the crown braid she had been wearing it in. When he reached for the curls, she let him undo the rest of the hairdo so it would tumble free on her shoulders.

“Not that I ain’t enjoying the view but you’re you gonna fuck me any time soon?” he challenged when she did nothing but grin at him. One of his hands left her hip to roam up her stomach and to her breasts… Her nipples still looked reddish and he knew they would probably be sensitive… He cupped her breast instead of pinching, gently kneading the soft flesh…

She tilted her head to the side, looked down at the penis swelling between her hip bone and his lower belly and only grinned harder. “Perhaps. If you are a good boy for me.”

He groaned because he didn’t really want to play games. It was fun when he was in charge and she was the one suffering with bliss but turnabout…

“Turnabout is fair play, my darling.” she sing-sang as if reading his mind. She was laughing a little, blue eyes twinkling with mirth, reddish blond curls forming a wild mane around her face and he was helpless to say no.

“You’re too _fucking_ gorgeous for your own good.” he grumbled.

A flash of _something_ passed on her face because she wasn’t as secured in her looks as she used to be – the war, the scars and the fact that she was a couple of years short of forty made her obsess over her body sometimes – but it was gone quickly because if she was certain of one thing it was of his desire for her.

“Now…” she hummed, clearly happy he was willing to let her have her fun. “Do not forget… Good boys get rewarded and bad boys get punished…”

He rolled his eyes. “Ain’t like we haven’t been playing that game since _forever_. I know the rules.”

He also really wanted to roll them over and just cut the game short to take what he needed. She would let him, he knew, because it was usually how it ended when she took charge. He could only be patient up to a point. But she would be disappointed and pout and _that_ was far much worse than making the effort to wait through it. 

“I think I want you blindfolded.” she added as if he hadn’t spoken. Her tone didn’t reflect it but it was a question.

He had always drawn the line at binds of any type – handcuffs, ropes, even scarves loosely wrapped around wrists; for her or for him – but he had let her cover his eyes once or twice over the years. He didn’t quite like it because he was always weary of being triggered and accidentally hurting her. Not seeing what was happening to him… He wasn’t entirely comfortable with that – no matter how much _she_ loved it when she was wearing the blindfold.

He felt safe enough right then though. He knew they were alone, he knew there would be no Peacekeepers crashing the party, he knew the world outside was at peace… And he trusted her completely body and soul.

He shrugged. “If it gets you on my _dick_ faster…”

She pursed her lips, tilted her head to the side, eyes narrowed in disapproval. He had expected the soft whack to his thigh so it didn’t take him unaware. “Language.”

“You should really stop demanding to be treated like a lady when you’re playing the dominatrix.” he advised.

He got two more whacks for his troubles.

And she got off his lap which wasn’t the point at all.

He immediately propped himself on his elbows with a frown, tracking her moves around the room. “Oh come on, sweetheart, don’t be like that. I was just…”

She dug out a silk scarf out of her suitcase and turned back to him, her lips still pursed. “Lie back down.”

“Bossy.” he snapped because he didn’t like it when she treated him like he was at her beck and call.

“That is the idea, yes.” she deadpanned. “Lie. Back. Down.”

With a sigh to let her know he was annoyed, he dropped flat on his back.

“Good boy.” she cooed, crawling back up on the bed, along the length of his body.

He watched her crawl all over him, his penis twitching when her breasts accidentally bumped into it. It had been a while since he had been allowed to come on her chest and he wanted to do it again soon. He wanted so much with her, _always_. Her fingers ran in his hair a few times and he relaxed into the familiar petting until she started to wrap the scarf around his head. He stretched his neck before she could make a full turn.

“Don’t spank me while I’ve got this on.” he reminded her. “Or let me know first it’s coming.”

“I know the rules, Haymitch.” she sighed, clearly irritated he was breaking character. “Now hush and let me play.”

It wasn’t so terrible to let her play. She was half lying on his chest. He could feel the familiar weight of her body as she trailed kisses down his neck and to his collarbone… He wrapped his arms around her, letting his finger caress every bump of her spine…

He wasn’t really surprised when she took hold of his wrists and guided his arms over his head in the same position she had adopted earlier.

“Leave them here. You are _not_ allowed to touch me yet.” she declared.

He grunted in understanding, giving himself to the sensations of her mouth roaming on his chest, of the occasional poke of her tongue… He was so focused on her touch he didn’t hear her take some ice from the bucket… But when she pressed an ice cube on his nipple without warning, his whole body buckled…

She clucked her tongue at him but he could hear the amusement in her voice. “Now… You are _not_ being a good boy, Haymitch…”

He realized, a moment too late, that his hands were on her hips again.

He had grabbed her when the unexpected cold had touched his nipple.

“Not fair.” he grumbled. “You didn’t warn me.”

“Still. I told you not to move your arms.” she retorted. “How to punish you…” Her voice trail off as she traced random infinity patterns on his chest with the ice cubes. He sucked in his stomach in reflex when she drifted there. “I think you will have to make me come again. Without your hands.”

His hands were guided back on the pillow. Her palms were wet.

He felt her move over him, knew what she wanted… She was pushing a lot of boundaries that night. He loved eating her out but eating her out while she straddled his face wasn’t something they had done a lot. In a way, the lack of control was even worse than when someone was pinning his hips. So doing it blindfolded on top of it…

Her fingers gently guided his head to her though and, blindfolded or not, he knew her by heart. He nuzzled, licked, sucked… Her breathing itched and her fingers tightened in his hair so he knew she was close…

It was hard to stop himself from grabbing her ass though. He would have like to prop her up a little, to tease her with his fingers…

But that was how she wanted to play it and he knew the reward would be worth the hassle because she always made sure of it.

Eventually, she shattered, completely losing control of herself. She rode him so hard he thought he would suffocate for a second but then she rolled off him. He licked his lips, stretched his tongue as far over his chin and nose as it would go in an obscene display, and then chuckled. “You’re gonna _fuck_ me now?”

His only answer was a handful of ice dropped on his sternum. His whole body shuddered again but he managed to keep his hands up this time. 

And a good thing too because then she licked all the melted ice off his chest.

She seemed happy to play with the ice and his chest for a while, just like he had done with her… She teased his nipples, apparently enjoyed watching his stomach ripple every time she put ice cubes there, licked rivulets of cold water down his ribs… She fed him some ice chips too a few times… She always made sure never to touch his dick or not to let ice come anywhere near it.

Haymitch wouldn’t lie, his penis was feeling seriously neglected.

So he was overjoyed when she eventually moved her playground southward.

She plopped an ice cube on each of his hips and then apparently made it a game to catch the drops of water before they could reach his groin. It made her tongue dart very close to where he would really like for it to go.

Cold water ran down to his balls a few times but it wasn’t terrible at all, not when she licked it off right after. His hands clenched and unclenched on the pillow. It was a _struggle _not to simply grab her now. He _really_ needed to come.

“You are being _so_ good…” she praised. “You can take the blindfold off now.”

He didn’t need her to tell him twice. Did she feel he was nearing the end of his patience? The moment he had the scarf off his face, she gobbled his dick up in her mouth with a low hum and he let out a string of all the coarsest curses he knew.

Maybe that was why she had told him to take the blindfold off then, because she knew just how much he liked watching her suck him off.

Her tongue was quick and clever and it was tracing letters on his dick. It was an old game between them. Sometimes he tried to figure out what it was she was spelling. But not when he had already gone through half an hour of foreplay. He couldn’t focus on anything that wasn’t the warmth of her mouth…

She slowly dragged off his length, her teeth just slightly scrapping…

“I wanna come on you.” he said before she could suck him up again.

“Not on my face.” she warned, letting him pop out of her mouth with an indecent noise.

He dragged her up by the arm and quickly changed their position so he was straddling her hips. His hand felt foreign on his penis after her mouth had been there, not as good… But then she closed her own fist over his and he let her finish him, let her pump him until he finally _finally _reached his release…

He grabbed the headboard to steady himself and _not _tumble in the mess he had made of her chest…

It took him a good minute to catch his breath back and find her eyes. She looked smug.

He kissed her hard.

“You better clean me up.” she muttered against his mouth.

He chuckled but complied easily enough with her request even though walking was a little difficult. His legs were, for some reason, shaky.

He cleaned her up with a wet cloth while she kicked the sheets to the floor with a disgusted wrinkle of her nose. It was hot enough that they didn’t need sheets anyway. He spared a thought for the people who would clean their room the next morning and then forgot it because given the price they were paying for the week, they _could _take care of their mess.

Eventually, they ended up lying on their sides, facing each other although not touching because it was too hot for spooning. It was another thing Haymitch didn’t like about this District and why he was sort of happy to still be living in his own: he loved snuggling with Effie at night.

“Thinking’s bad for you.” he teased at some point, reaching across the small space between them to press his finger against the small crease on her forehead. “What’s got you frowning?”

Her face relaxed and she grabbed his hand, entwining their fingers. They rested in the narrow no man’s land between their bodies. “Nothing. I was just thinking about the children. I just hope Katniss said yes.”

Never something to take for granted even though she and Peeta had been living together for the better part of three years.

They were in love and, more often than not, they were happy.

But the ghosts of the past were never that easy to bury and the last time they had talked about getting married…

“Most of the country still thinks they’re already married anyway.” he snorted. “I don’t know… Is it that important to have a ring on your finger when you know you’re gonna spend your whole life with someone?”

She tugged on his hand a little and the golden bangle he still wore around his wrist caught on the mattress. Her eyes darted to the token and stayed there.

“It helps.” she whispered.

It was his turn to frown. “Helps what?”

She pursed her lips tight and he knew she didn’t really want to answer. He knew her so well he could tell what any of her expressions meant.

“I suppose, if I were Peeta, I would feel a lot more confident our relationship is real if Katniss agreed to marrying me after pushing me away and toying with my feelings for so long.” she explained carefully. “No matter how good the last few years were, there must still be that tiny bit of fear that… that she chose him because he was the only one there and not because she actually truly thinks he is the love of her life.”

There was a very long silence.

“Well…” he said, studying her in the semi-darkness… “The boy ain’t the love of the girl’s life. The love of her life got blown up to smithereens in the Capitol and I don’t think she’s ever gonna recover from it, not really.” He shrugged. “But she _does_ love the kid, in her way. I don’t think she’s ever gonna love anyone else the way she loves him. And she ain’t the kind to get a boyfriend just ‘cause there are no other boys around so… That’s all _bullshit_.” He mulled that over a second more and then winced. “Get what you’re saying though. He wants a proof of commitment from her. Can understand that after everything he went though.”

“It is only conjecture.” she answered, a little ill-at-ease.

“Yeah. So that’s the kids sorted.” he pointed out. “Wanna talk about us now? Cause you’re awfully perceptive of Peeta’s so called doubts…”

She untangled her fingers from his and trailed them down his hand to the bangle. She coiled them around it. “I already have my proof of commitment.”

“So you don’t think we ended up here cause you were the only woman available?” he mocked.

Anger flashed on her face. “We both know I was not the only woman available. You could have had your pick. So that point is moot.”

That, at least, was true. He had been – and still was – one of the last victors still standing and a key player of the rebellion too. After the war, he could have had anyone.

But he had only wanted one.

“So that leaves the other thing then…” he countered slowly, a bit awkwardly. “You don’t think you’re the… _You know_… Love of my life and all that _shit_.”

The word ‘love’ was hard to utter.

She licked her lips, gripping the bangle harder, her tone light. “We all know your girlfriend took that title to her grave.”

“Don’t.” he spat and then took a deep breath and forced himself to soften his tone. “_Don’t_.”

“I am sorry.” she immediately apologized. “We had such a nice evening… I did not mean to spoil it. I _love_ what we have, I do _not_ need more, it is just… All this talk about marriage made me glum, that’s it.” She let go of the bangle to cup his face, gently pet the stubble on his jaw… “Let’s forget it, _please_.”

He didn’t want to forget it.

He didn’t want her to bury those doubts deep down and still carry them every day.

“I was sixteen when she died.” he reminded her and she winced.

“I know. I am _sorry_.” she insisted. “Let’s not reopen old wounds. I just…”

“It’s too young to know what love really is.” He rolled on his back, let her hand drop to his chest. When she moved as if to take it away, he covered it with his, kept her there… “With Mabel… It was easy. Yeah, she had a temper and we fought sometimes and, I don’t know, it felt… It was easy.”

“Haymitch…” she whispered.

“Love ain’t easy, sweetheart.” he cut her off. “That’s what you don’t know at sixteen. Love ain’t rainbows and butterflies… It ain’t stolen kisses when you figure out how to go through the fence… It ain’t a pretty girl giving you the only ribbon she owns…” He shook his head, chased the memories away. They didn’t hurt as much as they used to but they were painful all the same. “Love is sweat and blood… Love is…” He closed his eyes, took a deep breath… “Love is not being able to let you go even when I know it’s the best thing to do, the _safe _thing to do… Love is you taking care of me when I’m passed out drunk and puking all over myself and you hate it, you hate me… Love is buying _fucking_ golden tokens even though you know it’s a _fucking_ stupid idea… Love is… Love is…”

There were a thousand examples on the tip of his tongue. The way he always made sure the fireplace was stocked because she was always cold. The way she always fixed him a cup of coffee for him in the morning. The way they shared the last blueberry muffin between them because it was their favorite. The way she said his name. The way he called her princess. The way they wrapped around each other at night.

There were a thousand examples on the tip of his tongue but they wouldn’t come out and he groaned in irritation at himself.

“Haymitch.” she whispered again.

“She ain’t the love of my life.” he insisted.

“I understand.” she promised and suddenly she was there, pressed against his side despite the fact that it immediately made them sweaty. She pressed kisses on his shoulder, nipped his stubble-covered jaw, pecked his mouth…

“_Do_ you?” he half-begged.

He couldn’t say it outright. He was trying but…

“Yes.” she answered, her tone firm. “Yes, I do. And you should know… You should know there was never anyone else for me either. Never like _you_.”

“Now, _that_’s sad…” he snorted. “Cause I ain’t a catch.”

“You are to me.” she retorted, resting her head on his shoulder and hooking her leg over his hip. He placed his hand on the back of her thigh, holding her there, and wrapped his other arm around her. It was too hot for that but it didn’t matter. Life was better when she was snuggled tight against him. “I have been very stupid tonight.”

“To be fair, you’re _often_ very stupid.” he taunted.

She bit the side of his neck in rebuke and he chuckled, finally relaxing. His thumb distractedly rub the soft skin of her thigh for a while. She was drifting off to sleep, he knew it at the way her body was becoming heavier against him.

“Let me just wrap my head around it, alright?” he requested quietly. “Then we can get hitched.”

“I do not need…” she sleepily started but he cut her off.

“Don’t want you to ever doubt us.” he argued. “Doesn’t have to be a big thing, right? Just the two of us and some bread… Maybe the kids… Low key.”

“Annie and Jo too.” she hummed.

“Sure. Yeah.” he agreed. “But not _now_, yeah?”

“No…” She muffled her laugher in his shoulder. “No need to panic just yet I won’t drag you to the altar, Haymitch.” He rolled his eyes but she wasn’t done. “We cannot steal the children’s thunder anyway. See? I won’t hold you to anything until _they _are married.”

That, he knew, could go either of two ways. Peeta would probably want a real wedding with a small party and his friends but Katniss would probably want to elope and just toast bread in the first fireplace they would find, which meant _he_ could have to face the music the next day just like it could happen in six months.

In the end, he forced himself to relax and try to go to sleep.

“One thing is for sure though…” Effie mumbled, half-asleep already.

“What?” he asked, burying his fingers in her hair, gently combing the tangled curls.

“I hope they have the same kind of sex life we do now when they are as old as we are.” she joked. “It is the key to keeping the spark alive.”

“Is it, now?” he mocked, tugging on a recalcitrant knot in her hair. “You certainly never make it boring… Ain’t sure they have the same kinky tastes we do though…”

“You did not walk on them at the bakery…” she countered. “Who knew Peeta was _this_ flexible…”

He decided he _didn’t _in fact want to know.

He was happy worrying about his own sex life.

His love life, it seemed, was secure for the immediate future.

**Author's Note:**

> Did you like it? Let me know!


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